


Pink Skies

by AlfredoSolisFuentes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlfredoSolisFuentes/pseuds/AlfredoSolisFuentes
Summary: “Lorenz, listen.” Byleth hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “We have to get out of this.”Lorenz gave her one of his looks. One that told her he thought she was being particularly common right now. But there was a soft glint to his eyes and an upward curve to his mouth. He was on her side.Alternatively, the interrogation of Byleth and Lorenz in persuasion of their—much like all of Fódlan in this post-wartime—beautiful union.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't strictly following the Verdant Wind ending, but it's close. For the conceit of this fic, the changes will probably be a touch obvious. I... really love Lorenz, haha <3

“You want us to… what?”

Byleth looked from Rhea to Seteth, blinking and tangling her fingers together in her lap. They’d asked her to sit down before revealing the reason they’d called them there. Lorenz had also been told to sit, but he’d politely declined, standing next to Byleth with one hand on his hip.

Seteth opened his mouth to repeat himself, but Rhea reached out to place a hand on his arm. She appeared fragile, still recovering, but it only added gravitas to everything she said.

As if the woman needed to be any more intimidating, weakened or not.

“It would be a significant moment, best representing the newly Unified Fódlan,” she said, removing her hand when Seteth eased. “As well as the union between the church and the reborn kingdom.”

This wasn’t the answer Byleth had wanted. There  _ wasn’t _ an answer she could want in this situation. She’d come here, trusting that she, as someone who’d just helped end a war, would be met with kindness. And what happens? Betrayal. From people she practically considered family, no less.

“Marriage?” She shot Lorenz a glance, feeling the unfamiliar sting of discomfort. “So suddenly?”

Seteth cleared his throat, but Rhea caught him by speaking up first again.

“We recognize how sudden it is,” she said. “This is simply an opportunity we must explore, given how familiar you are with one another. As the new archbishop and the soon-to-be ruler of Fódlan, binding yourselves to one another would strengthen not only the resolve of the citizens in this new era, but it would show the world the solid foundation the new kingdom has with the church.”

Byleth blinked again, then came to a stand. “You mentioned that, but on what basis?”

“Yes,” Lorenz spoke up. The hand that usually rested in a casual curl at his front had become a fist. “From what absurd lottery was this suggestion drawn?”

Seteth, finally able to speak, gave him a frown. “Are you not in want of a wife?”

Byleth looked at Lorenz to find him already gazing down at her. His eyes were quick to shift back to Seteth, his perfect eyebrows meeting in a furrow.

“I wouldn’t wish to gain a wife by such a desperate measure.”

Seteth’s frown grew, but Rhea’s expression remained as patient as ever. Byleth looked between all three of them, unable to temper the amusement budding from Lorenz’s word choice.

“Right,” she agreed with a nod. “He’s grown out of his desperate phase.”

She felt more so than saw Lorenz turning toward her with a look. Rather than entertain it, she crossed her arms and pressed forth. As much as she wanted to keep her amusement, it was fleeting in the face of things.

“Is this a serious proposal?” She looked between them. “Because Lorenz is still recovering, and I have to—”

“Please understand,” Rhea interrupted. “We come from a place of concern for both of you and for the future.”

Byleth’s mind stalled at this, as it tended to do when Rhea spoke in tones that she knew to be sincere despite sounding anything but. It wasn’t unlike Rhea to pressure her about things she considered important. Byleth could do without the insistence, but Rhea wouldn’t apply it if she didn’t think Byleth could handle it. So she didn’t quite know what to say. She looked to Lorenz again, this time with wide eyes.

“Sidebar.”

Before Seteth—because it  _ would _ be him—could protest, she turned toward the door and left. Lorenz followed, only steps behind her. His limp wasn't nearly as bad as it had been since the final battle, but it remained obvious enough in the click of his heels on the stone floor, so she slowed to let him catch up.

“Of all the reasons to call us here, this was the last thing I expected. Professor, how can they—”

Looking up at him, she broke through before he could go on a proper rant. “How are you feeling? Your leg seems much better.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything at first. He came to a stop in the middle of the empty audience chamber, and she stumbled over her last steps, turning to face him. She liked having to look up at him. Few of her favorite students had been taller than her, how novel the thought. Novel and attention catching.

That was Lorenz, even now with his slight limp. Attention catching. Hers was certainly caught, as always.

“I’m much recovered, thank you,” he said, a slow frown coming to his face. “My leg should be healed within a fortnight.”

He was giving her nothing more than the bare minimum of response. She expected as much, getting very little from the man for months. But that didn’t matter now. He could withhold his complaints about petty things all he wanted. There was no time for that when such a bigger issue was surfacing right before them.

“Lorenz, listen.” Byleth hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “We have to get out of this.”

Lorenz gave her one of his looks. One that told her he thought she was being particularly common right now. But there was a soft glint to his eyes and an upward curve to his mouth. He was on her side.

She was comforted by the sight and eased a smile onto her face. “Argue against them with me?”

“Of course, professor,” was his quick response. “I’ll follow your lead.”

The doors to the advisory room creaked on their way open, Rhea walking ahead of Seteth. They both looked far too patient; it didn’t bode well. They must’ve had some sort of plan for whatever rebuttal they’d be met with after such an insane suggestion.

Byleth had every intention to protest.

“Let us talk separately,” Rhea said, tilting her head toward the advisory room. “Come with me, Lorenz. We’ll have tea.”

This caught Byleth off guard. Rhea turned and retraced her steps back toward the smaller room, and when Lorenz began to follow, Byleth reached out to grip his wrist. Stopping herself before making contact, she curled her fingers and met Lorenz’ gaze.

They were on the same side. He’d said so. As Seteth ushered her toward the exit of the audience chamber to make for his own office, she told herself to trust that Lorenz would only say things to Rhea that would help put a stop to this nonsense before the idea of their marriage could become an actual, terrifying possibility.

Marriage wasn’t something she’d given much thought to, and Lorenz cared so much about it, he had to be offended by the mere notion that he couldn’t secure his own wife. One that Lorenz would actually want to spend the rest of his days with. Which, considering all things—even the awkward past things,  _ especially _ the awkward past things—Byleth was certain she was not.


	2. Chapter 2

Unlike Rhea’s promise to Lorenz, Seteth didn’t offer tea when Byleth took a seat in front of his desk. Seteth didn’t so much as offer a smile. Or take his own seat. Or do anything beyond stand next to his desk, cross his arms, and stare at her. Typical.

“You can’t ask me to marry one of my former students.” There, she thought. Start off strong. It was a valid point, and he knew that.

Seteth arched an eyebrow. “Your student, sure. For a single term, half a decade ago. He is far from that child, don’t you think?”

Byleth resisted a heavy sigh. Lorenz had never been a child, not for as long as she’d known him. That wasn’t the argument she was trying to make at all. This was already verging on frustrating, and she’d only just sat down.

“All right,” she said, tilting her chin up. “As a person, Lorenz is a good friend. But that doesn’t mean we should marry each other.”

“You’re purposely ignoring the obvious,” he was quick to reply. “In considering him as not just a person, but as a man.”

Byleth blinked, then looked down at her hands, which tangled in her lap just like they had in the advisory room. For a moment, she thought he made a good point. Lorenz was certainly a man, but it didn’t really make sense. Because Lorenz was a man, she should’ve considered marrying him? For the good of Unified Fodlan?

Stretching out her fingers, she skimmed her hands over her knees and straightened her back. “I know what he is. A man, a noble, and a soldier.”

“Soon to be a king.”

Byleth’s expression flattened. “Right, how forgetful of me.”

Seteth uncrossed his arms, but it didn’t make him any less imposing, looking down at her that way. “The king of a newly formed kingdom needs a strong partner at his side.”

She bristled. “So marry him yourself.”

Closing his eyes, Seteth let out a long sigh. She waited while he rested a hand on his desk, as if the conversation was physically tiring him. He’d wanted this, to talk privately in apparent hope to persuade her, and he looked ready to end despite how they’d only begun.

Good. This wouldn’t take long.

He opened his eyes, his frown evening out into a flat line. Then he rounded his desk and took a seat. Byleth didn’t like the look of that, of him settling in and resting his forearms on the desktop.

“I fail to understand your adamant rejection of our proposal,” he finally said. “By all appearances, you and Lorenz make a formidable match. You fought side by side throughout the war—”

“Which only just ended.”

“Hence the need to combine your strengths.”

“Or to focus on rebuilding.”

Seteth’s lips pinched, likely fighting another sigh. “Alright, professor. I see this won’t be easily accomplished.”

“Or at all,” she cut in.

He lifted a hand to pinch the arch of his nose between his eyes. “All I ask is your reason as to why.”

Oh, it was that simple now? He needed reasons for why she wouldn’t marry Lorenz, and he’d let it go? She had more than one reason, most of which had nothing to do with Lorenz himself. Marriage wasn’t something she’d ever given a thought. With anyone. Romance, maybe in passing. Once or twice. Physical attraction was an unrelated subject entirely.

She’d always had too many more important things than marriage to worry about. The end of the war had shoveled even more onto her plate. Every bit of this was asinine, and she had no doubt that Lorenz probably found it just as insulting.

Taking a deep breath, Byleth sat back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Lorenz is unbearably arrogant.”

* * *

She’d barely gotten a word in since arriving to Garreg Mach Monastery. It was fine; she’d always been a woman of few words. But to be met with question after question, introduction after introduction, only to be moved along to the next person in another part of the academy without reprieve, was exhausting.

Now, standing in front of one of the students Rhea had sent her to talk to, she felt like screaming. Which was something that she tended not to do unless delivering a death blow. The guy in front of her had a hand on his hip and a wide grin. What could be so amusing, Byleth wanted to know.

She nodded when he seemed to be done speaking, and he arched his eyebrows.

“Oh, yeah? Who did you want to hear about?”

Her eyes fluttered, partially in embarrassment, mostly in confusion. “Ah.”

She looked around, taken by surprise at the sudden chance to speak. Her gaze stopped on a tall figure standing across the courtyard. It was the rose at his lapel, deep red and hard to miss, that made her pause. He spoke with another student, a girl by the look of the uniform, who crossed her arms and shook her head at whatever he was saying.

Eyes snapping back to the student in front of her—his name was Claude, she reminded herself—Byleth hoped the tall, flowered boy was in his class. “Him.”

Claude glanced in that direction, his smile unwavering. “Lorenz? He’s the heir of Gloucester territory. If you haven’t already picked up on it, he’s a bit arrogant and fancies himself a ladies man.”

Was that right? She looked at the student again, just in time to catch the girl storming away from him. Lorenz the Ladies Man, huh? He scoffed, then looked at his fingernails with pursed lips. It didn’t dawn on Byleth that she was staring until his head tilted a moment later, his short hair bobbing as he looked in her direction. 

Not driven to avoid eye contact for any reason, she maintained it and bore the growing curiosity on his face. His eyes were as purple as his hair, the angles of his face just as sharp. In a slow drop to his side, his fingers curled and uncurled.

“Anyone else?” Claude spoke up, regaining her attention.

She tore her gaze from Lorenz to another student who seemed awfully close to the Golden Deer classroom. “How about them?”

⁂

_“My name is Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. You would do well to remember it.”_

Byleth was certain she wouldn’t forget an introduction like that, although she could try. As his new professor, she wasn’t sure if she should’ve expected him to behave differently, but the attitude remained. She wouldn’t quite call it haughty. She _knew_ haughty. The nobles who would sometimes give Geralt’s mercenaries work, looking down their noses at others, no kindnesses to spare for those less fortunate— they were haughty. Lorenz was prideful, but he’d never been disrespectful insofar as asking too many questions in class.

For the most part, she couldn’t take him seriously enough to consider him with the amount of contempt that others—the commoners and young women of the monastery, in particular—seemed to hold for the young nobleman.

Seteth held a seminar halfway through the first month of her stay. She was in awe throughout, new battle tactics being brought to her attention in a way they’d never been before. Typically, it would be firsthand accounts, either from the other men led by her father, or from facing enemies herself. Mostly from the latter, if she were honest. The seminar was a first for her; an appreciated reprieve.

She was deep in thought when leaving the classroom. She’d known next to nothing about fighting with a lance before Seteth had drawn several, potentially unnecessary diagrams onto the chalkboard. She had ideas for lance fighting styles that she couldn’t wait to put into practice.

The day was warm, half over now with the sun sitting high in the cloudy sky. A deep breath in, and she felt like she could work on her next lesson plan at one of the tea tables until dinner.

“I merely meant to bring to attention how striking you are from this angle.”

Byleth stopped mid-step at the voice and looked around. Just beyond a pillar, she noticed Lorenz standing in front of another student. Wearing the usual displeased expression, the girl huffed. Byleth could laugh. Almost.

She smiled and watched as Lorenz failed to win the girl over. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed his decimation, and it wouldn’t be the last. Awful professor that it made her, her amusement over it only deeped each time. His tenacity was to be admired, but she thought it would be better put to use elsewhere. Such as the classroom, if not the battlefield.

Byleth’s smile faded when the girl stormed past her. Holding her notes and text close to her side, Byleth rounded the pillar. As much as she wasn’t actively attempting to, she met eyes with Lorenz on her way toward the gazebos.

His expression was pinched, eyes narrowed and lips in a tight frown. Already an entire head over her, he looked down on her without trying.

“Lorenz,” she greeted in passing.

He nodded promptly. “Professor.”

Byleth traversed the walkways and crossed through a gate that led to the gazebos before letting herself smile again. She was probably going to need to talk to him about this behavior eventually. Until it became necessary to put a stop to his misfortune, she’d keep finding humor in it.

⁂

Pleasant wasn’t a word Byleth used for many things. The quaint village just outside of Garreg Mach, though, fit the bill. She didn’t have to find reasons to walk the cobblestone streets. She’d yet to make friends, had stocked up in the market that morning, and had no seminars to look forward to.

So she wandered the village, taking in its… pleasantness.

“Why, just look at these soft, delicate fingertips you have.”

Oh. Oh, no. That voice.

Byleth approached the end of an alley that opened into a wider street and considered turning around. With the number of times she’d experienced the second-hand embarrassment on Lorenz’ behalf in the single month she’s lived in the monastery, she couldn’t guarantee she’d remain calm, even in passing.

“It’s as though they could blossom into flagrant lillies before my very eyes.”

Oh, no. Byleth closed her eyes and fought a smile. Terrible. He needed to be stopped, and as much as she wished it weren’t true, she knew she’d have to be the one to do it. Opening her eyes, she rolled her shoulders and left the alleyway just in time to hear the response of the woman he was so artlessly flirting with.

“If you’re so wild about flowers, why don’t you try a flower shop?!” The woman walked away, leaving Lorenz in a wide-eyed state of disbelief.

Byleth watched his expression smooth over within seconds, his eyes rolling as a twinge of pink began to mottle his cheeks. She stopped in front of him, not exactly but close enough to where the woman had been moments before. Lorenz, to his credit, didn’t look surprised to see her beyond the arch of an eyebrow.

“That was rough,” Byleth said plainly. “Are you going to be okay?”

Lorenz blushed slightly deeper, and she realized then that she shouldn’t have opened her mouth. He cleared his throat, his hands coming to his chest to smooth down his shirt and fix the rose on his lapel unnecessarily. Byleth couldn’t explain why this made her smile, but for the first time since meeting him, she let him see it.

He was actually a messy bit of chaos, wasn’t he? It was hidden behind poorly constructed compliments and perfectly placed roses, but it was there, urging him to say the most insane things with a straight face. Lorenz the ladies man, approaching all aspects of life with a heightened sense of importance of which Byleth was certain he could never retain on his own. Not in the face of any woman on this side of Fodlan, at least. The longer she looked at him, the harder it was to keep the smile tame, and he ruined it by speaking up.

“I’m all right, professor.” Chin up, he looked assured but did little to keep the blush from his face. “Any woman who is taken in by such simple flattery is ill-suited to my noble disposition.”

Byleth pinched her lips between her front teeth and arched her brows. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t _not_ laugh at him if he didn’t stop. Giving herself a moment to swallow down the amusement, she forced a frown at him.

“Lorenz, I strongly suggest you work on your courting lines until you’ve perfected them before you approach another woman.” She lifted a hand to hush him before he could interrupt. This was difficult; she was going to miss witnessing his silliness, but it shouldn’t have to come at the expense of every woman he came into contact with. “There have been complaints around the monastery, and now I see you’re approaching people in the village, as well?”

She tried for her best disapproving look, which she felt was working until his face grew a deeper shade of red.

“Ah, you’re misunderstanding, Professor—”

“I’m not. You need to stop.”

“Finding a suitable wife is one of my greatest duties—”

A snort escaped Byleth. “Lorenz, I’m serious.”

“You don’t seem it.” His brow furrowed, but she couldn’t be made to feel bad.

“I am,” she said through a growing smile. She was the worst professor in existence. If he weren’t her student, she would’ve flayed him like she had so many of her peers when they failed to land dates. “I’m so serious, Lorenz.”

“Repeating it doesn’t make it true.”

Bubbling up from deep in her chest, a laugh tumbled out of her. She put a hand over her mouth, her stomach clenching to keep it in fruitlessly. The laugh spilled through, right into her palm.

Lorenz crossed his arms. “What could be so amusing?”

Faced with his ire, she laughed harder. It felt good to finally let this out, and to do it right in front of him was cathartic. She was, without a doubt, the worst professor, and for the moment, as laughter shook her shoulders, she didn’t care.

“Professor, are _you_ all right?”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away and inhaled deeply to calm her amusement. “You’re very funny, Lorenz.”

He blinked, as if startled by what she’d said. “Me?”

Finally free of the intensity of her amusement, Byleth cleared her throat and nodded. “Hysterical. Now, remember what I said. No more romantic advances on unsuspecting women.”

He didn’t appear impressed. “You say I have to improve, but how is that possible when I’m obliged to reign myself in? I’m not one to talk to myself.”

She considered him, then said. “If you have to, practice on me.”

“I can’t possibly do that.” His precious face grew red all over again. “You’re my professor.”

“Exactly. That’s what I’m here for.” She rounded him, ready to end the conversation. It was the longest one she’d had with him yet, and she hadn’t been as solidly put off by his prolonged presence as she’d expected. “See you in class, Lorenz.”

* * *

Seteth lifted a hand from his desk to rest his chin in his palm. “That’s a telling anecdote, but I’m afraid it doesn’t convince me of your argument.”

Byleth sighed through her nose. “You’re not convinced that I just don’t want to marry him?”

“You find him hysterical.” Seteth was becoming flippant now, as if goading her. “You said so yourself. You went so far as to invite him to practice romantic advances on you.”

“Better it was me than let him continue harassing every female student in sight.”

“Perhaps.” Seteth said this, but it was clear he wasn’t accepting anything she’d said so far.

Byleth once again felt like yelling. She had things to do. Actual things that mattered. “You should make tea.”

Seteth’s chin lifted from his hand, his eyebrows arching. “Oh? You’re going to share something of value, then?”

She rolled a shrug over her shoulders. “I’ll give every reason I have, if that’s what it’ll take for you to see what a bad idea this is.”

He pursed his lips, then came to a stand. “Just a moment.”

While Seteth prepared tea, Byleth wondered how Lorenz was faring back in the advisory room. He must’ve been much more insulted, all things considered. She could picture him talking about finding a wife being his personal burden and honor. Someone _he_ chose, he was probably saying to Rhea now. A partner he’d find on his own merit, without the added confusion of past transgressions.

Byleth sighed into the empty room. This was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

After enduring the entirety of a war, Lorenz was hard pressed to be intimidated. He knew his worth after painstakingly long years of learning that confidence didn’t entirely make up for a lack of competence. There had been so much trial and error, leagues of missteps that he’d gotten through to be where he was now.

So it was with a peculiar edge of wariness that he accepted the cup of tea from Rhea. He wasn’t going to be intimidated by a woman still recovering from imprisonment. He respected her greatly, but to feel intimidation right now would be preposterous.

Still, he found it difficult to keep her gaze.

“Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. You’ve stuck by Byleth’s side throughout everything, and you’ve sought a wife long before needing one. What exactly is your objection to this proposal?”

He lifted the teacup from its saucer delicately and blew on the surface of the tea. An urge for pleasantries and small talk came to him as he took a sip. He fought it down, an easy task to accomplish with Rhea’s intense gaze locked onto him.

“I’ve learned well that it’s bad practice to coerce someone into marriage.” Despite the situation, the intimidation, and the too hot tea, he felt in his element. “Spending your life with someone isn’t a decision to be made impetuously.”

Rhea tilted her head in a long stare at him, saying nothing for a stretch. Like intimidation, Lorenz never felt unnerved. He didn’t! And he certainly didn’t feel it now. When Rhea smiled, it did nothing to settle him; he took a large drink of tea in an attempt to remedy that but ended up with a burning throat and chest. He swallowed hard and returned the smile.

“Tell me how you met Byleth. Was it during her first lesson, or perhaps she introduced herself before then?”

Lorenz relaxed at this hint of small talk, lowering his hands and the teacup in them to the table between them. “She wasn’t one for introductions. I heard tell of the mercenary who’d saved Claude and saw her around the monastery with him when she first arrived. I thought she would be another student and made it a point to make myself known.”

A slow nod from Rhea relaxed him further. She seemed to be understanding; maybe all she required was a sensible explanation to let go of the potential fiasco that this arranged marriage was sure to be.

“Any point of contention?” Rhea finally picked up her own teacup, one of her eyebrows arching carefully. “I recall her addressing complaints about you. Are there possible lingering resentments over this?”

The teacup in Lorenz’s hand clattered against its saucer when he placed it down. “Resent― Of course not.”

He’d been a different person then. He’d thought her shutting down his romantic pursuits to be a misguided attempt to keep him tamed. The ladies were honored to have his attention, he’d thought. He looked down into his teacup, now nearly empty. Right. What a person he’d been. It was no wonder Byleth was so adamant against marrying him.

A frown pulled at his mouth, and he brushed his hair over a shoulder in one quick flip. “It’s not as if she was so perfect. For someone who rarely spoke outside of lessons, she was loud, dirty, and―” He cut himself off, his eyes widening in realization at what he was saying about his professor. His friend.

Rhea’s smile broadened, and she nodded in invitation for him to continue.

Lorenz sipped the last of his tea and placed the cup and saucer back onto the table. He didn’t especially want to divulge his old perceptions of Byleth, but it could be just the thing to end this.

“Common. She was proudly common.”

* * *

He missed the school of sorcery in Fhirdiad. The studies had been far more focused. The new professor wanted him to give the lance a try. He couldn’t sense any progress being made, but if he had to give Byleth credit for anything, it would be her consistency. She had a feeling about him, she’d said. Sure. Regardless of her  _ feeling, _ Lorenz excelled in everything he saw worth pursuing. This would be no different… once he grasped the concept.

Fingers and hands sore from the new training, he held his teacup gingerly. Across the table from him sat Ferdinand, who spoke at length about a particularly heart-racing experience he’d had before coming to the monastery. Lorenz would normally cut in with his own thoughts, but the ache in his hands distracted. The professor had actually brought this bit of culture in the form of Ferdinand into his circle, giving him a reprieve from the constant buffoonery Claude loved to indulge in. So that was two things he had to credit her: consistency and understanding his need for decent conversation.

“Professor!”

Lorenz nearly dropped his teacup at Ferdinand’s sudden call. He followed the other man’s line of sight to find his professor standing on the edge of the courtyard. The day was sunny, lighting up her face and brightening the shades of green in her hair. She approached their gazebo with a curious look, glancing between Ferdinand and Lorenz as if she wasn’t sure which one had called her over. She never smiled, and it was frankly off-putting.

The closer she became, the more Lorenz wished she wouldn’t. In one hand, she held a fishing rod. That had been clear from a distance. Now, though, he couldn’t keep from curling his lip at the squirming mass of… He put his teacup down and quickly tugged a handkerchief from a pocket to cover his mouth.

“Indulging in an outdoor activity on such a nice day?” Ferdinand asked with a small nod toward her fishing pole. “That’s a brilliant idea, professor.”

Lorenz fought an eye roll. Minding manners was an utmost importance, but was Ferdinand always so overly polite to people who weren’t… noble? There was a time and place for niceties, and this wasn’t it. Just let her continue on her way. She had pockets spilling over with live insect larva. Lorenz felt his stomach clench when a few of the tiny, squirming things fell to the ground as she shifted the pole from one arm to the other, propping it on her shoulder.

“I’m relieved to see you enjoying each other’s company,” she said, still looking between them. She must’ve been out in the sun for a while; it showed on her skin, twinged pink along her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. “I had a feeling you’d be fast friends.”

“Professor,” Lorenz spoke up, lowering the handkerchief. “Try not to overuse that turn of phrase.”

Byleth cocked her head and stared at him. More larva tumbled out of her overly stuffed pockets. “Hm?”

Lorenz returned the handkerchief to his mouth and closed his eyes. For a person who didn’t give much in terms of facial or bodily expression, Byleth seemed to always have a feeling about things, about Ferdinand’s friendship, about Lorenz himself.

Well, Lorenz had a feeling about her in return, and it wasn’t one that should be mentioned in polite company.

⁂

Lorenz had been proven wrong. He was remiss to assume Byleth incapable of genuine feeling.  _ She _ was the one in the wrong regarding his expression of romantic interest in the young women he deemed suitable, but he trusted that she’d recognize that someday. In the meantime, he decided to listen to her advice. It wouldn’t hurt to hone his skill in wooing before exercising it on the right person.

To be so incorrect himself, though, was a new concept. Byleth could indeed smile; more than, where he was concerned. As if by an accidental miracle, he’d made her laugh. Part of him was curious enough to want to do it again. He just… wasn’t certain as to how.

Opportunity struck when she caught him outside the gardens, her hands covered in dirt from Sothis knew what she’d been up to in the greenhouse. She invited him to share a meal with her. He considered her approach with caution. She must’ve been entertaining someone important, a nobleman in all likelihood, and needed him as a buffer. It was a wise choice, and he wouldn’t turn down someone so clearly in need of his aid.

He realized his mistake when sitting across from her at one of the tables in the galley. In the seat next to him sat Ignatz, smiling and blinking at him from behind his round spectacles. Rather than showing the uncertainty he felt, he lifted his chin and greeted them both. The plate waiting for him on the table was― oh.

He allowed an easy smile to cross his face, aimed at Byleth. “I did not expect such a delicacy to come from the dining hall.”

Ignatz echoed a similar praise before they tucked in. It was a shock to Lorenz that they could share a favorite food. Of course not all commoners were the same; Lorenz knew that. But it was a surprise all the same.

Byleth held her fork like a knife, the same way Felix Fraldarious did the one time Lorenz was so unfortunate to eat near him. She stabbed a bite of the fish on her plate and held the fork up as she said, “I caught a ton of fish this week.” She punctuated the statement by eating the entire bite in one go.

Lorenz endured the meal, deeply conflicted. It had to have been pure chance that she’d invite him to share in one of his favorite meals―two-fish saute was a rare thing in Garreg Mach―and he was thoroughly enjoying every single bite. But he couldn’t say, despite his budding curiosity, that he enjoyed her ghastly presence.

Rather than himself taking the role, Lorenz was grateful for Ignatz being present as a buffer of sorts between himself and the professor. Her table etiquette was horrendous, her words often vulgar, and she couldn’t seem to refrain from holding eye contact with him for far too long. It was impolite, to say the least.

Good thing she hadn’t been meeting with anyone important. Lorenz wasn’t sure keeping her from looking foolish was within even his realm of great capability. A shame, though, that he didn’t get the chance to make her laugh again.

⁂

“Again!”

Lorenz grit his teeth, wishing wholly that looks could kill. The professor hit the floor of the training grounds with her sword, urging him to repeat his recent manoeuvre. The tempo of it irritated him.  _ Thwap, thwap, _ between her yelling, it was a countdown to his next move. He didn’t want to do it again and glared across the room at her. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck uncomfortably. This must’ve been the definition of misery, surely.

“Let’s go, string bean!”

He went into action at her insistence on using that awful nickname. She’d said during their first training session that he was too thin. Waifish. A freakishly tall skeleton with pale skin stretched over it. His appearance, like everything, mattered greatly, and he genuinely hoped she only meant to tease. Regardless, it worked to anger him, which drove their sessions for longer.

She was either terribly rude or an evil genius. He strongly believed it to be the former.

His grip on the lance tightened. Don’t just jab with it, she’d said. Worry about finesse later. Strike to kill every time. He moved through the motions with a mind aflame, rushing toward her through the ringing in his ears. She always went easy on him. He could tell, and he hated it. The thought pushed him forward harder.

Handling a lance required such a different way of thinking; not less thought than magic, just a complete wipe of what he knew about approaching an opponent. This, beyond the wildly different physical focus, should’ve been easier than his magic studies, in which he excelled. Yet he struggled. She was going to point out his shortcomings with the lance during their next lesson, just like she had the last time. And the time before that.

She swore loudly, the hard F―“Fuck!”―startling him out of his thoughts. He blinked, looking down at where she lay below him. With a foot planted on each side of her waist, he stood above, the tip of his lance piercing the floor next to her left arm. A long line in her skin, cut cleanly over her arm, began to drip blood.

His irritation subsided, and he met her wide eyes with concern. When had he overpowered her? He was larger, sure, but she’d always proven to be faster.

“Great job!” She was close enough that yelling was unnecessary, but it seemed to be more of a cheer this time. He withdrew the lance and stepped away from her to offer a hand. She took it with one of her rare smiles. On her feet, she let go of his hand to touch the cut. “I should go see Manuela. Excellent work, Lorenz.”

“It was only a trifle.” He watched her leave before putting away the lance and making his own exit. He supposed the lance training was actually working. His frustration faded into a soft pride.

_ Excellent work, Lorenz. _

He smiled to himself on the way to the sauna, envisioning himself riding gallantly on a steed into battle. Perhaps her feeling about him had been right all along.

* * *

Silence followed the end of his explanation. It rested between him and Rhea, filling up the advisory room until Lorenz thought he could suffocate. Then, finally, Rhea frowned, her fingertips tracing the rim of her teacup delicately.

“I had no idea you disliked her so thoroughly.” Her fingers stopped, lingering above the cup. “If the hatred is this deep―”

“Archbishop, you misunderstand.” Lorenz touched the rose at his lapel and looked up to meet her eyes for the first time since beginning his story. “I could never hate her. She was our professor, and she led us to victory. We all care for her a great deal.”

Rhea lowered her hands, laying them one atop the other behind her teacup. “We are not asking Ignatz to marry her. Nor Ferdinand or Felix.” She paused, as if to think. “Do you think they are better candidates?”

If Lorenz were the type to snort, he’d be doing it now. Fodlan was beginning to rebuild itself, most of the others were off tending to their responsibilities, assuring their people and stamping down on all remaining enemies. Claude had left Fodlan entirely. The rest, between their duties and amidst the cleanup, were pairing off with those they’d grown closest to throughout the conflict.

It would take weeks to send for any one person who’d once stayed in Garreg Mach and weeks more to receive the refusal because  _ I’m proposing to someone special when things settle more _ or  _ I haven’t gotten over the person I lost in the war. I’m sorry, Archbishop. _ Sure, these could be gross assumptions, but Lorenz knew the others almost as well as he knew himself.

The crux of it lay in the fact that Byleth didn’t seem to want to get married, whatever her reasons may’ve been, and what they’d all learned, in spite of everything, was to trust the judgement of their professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡ thanks for reading


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